


The Necklace Man

by unluckitty



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Abstract, Bet that's a tag you've never seen, Blood, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Gen, Inanimate object!Jaemin, Inspired by Cabinet Man by Lemon Demon, Other, Pretentious, Prose-esque, Psychological Horror, Surreal, The Author Regrets Everything, The Author Regrets Nothing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-14
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-21 07:41:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30018405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unluckitty/pseuds/unluckitty
Summary: There's a certain beauty about Jaemin's existence, and he's only just begun to realise its power.
Comments: 3
Kudos: 3





	The Necklace Man

**Author's Note:**

> Read the tags...you've been warned. This is /extremely/ abstract and confusing so be prepared for that too. In fact 90% of this was intentional. So don't worry :)
> 
> [Cabinet Man by Lemon Demon](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iZ_P3F3nA1U)

Necklace; what an elegant word. Something that laces the neck, curling up around its victim perfectly and clasping its own tail, just to keep its victim safe. Two words that make sense by themselves, for that matter. And oh, so, satisfying to say. Necklace. A thin metal chain, imprisoning the accused, so delicate and yet if you were to rip it off, it would retaliate by casting a slash across your soft palm. Flowing almost like water between your fingers, its units entangling themselves into a new, corrupt world. 

Alternatively, a strap of deceivingly flexible material that traps bears, traps mice, traps anything in the way of what it wants. Some use them to pretty themselves- all a convincing illusion of prettiness. Sparkle, dangle, dazzle, moonlit. Mindless small talk, compliments, insults thrown around, and then the clasp is undone and all is free once more.

And others still, use it for leisurely activities. More mindless small talk, whispers under the sheets, skin against skin and the necklace doesn’t lose its grip. On the contrary, it stays, wrapped, around its master. Once again, someone tries to pry it off of its master- they earn what feels like sirens, sirens, sirens. What's a little blood anyway?

Sometimes, Jaemin saw himself as a necklace. Displayed in equally glittery shop windows. An equally flashy customer walked past and stared. They stared and soaked in every single one of his nooks and crannies and god knows what else. They tried him on, as if he was a type of new skin, or as if he’ll make them look even more glittery and flashy (god forbid). And in the meantime, he naively bit his tail once more, all in vain. All to be put back on the shelf and face a sorry smile and shake of the head. Or more often than not, an upturned lip and microscopes for eyes. The initial shock of nakedness wore off quicker every time. Sometimes they’d walk out with another necklace, or none at all, or even try to bargain their way to his jewels and precious fastener. A week later: lying in a velvet box no less. It’s quite dark inside velvet boxes, as well as hard to breathe.

His shop would move him to another shop, and another, and still another. But why did the view never change? Why did the same people come and go? As if they wanted to walk in one day with no shopkeeper on hand and cut him like confetti? Chop, chop, a butcher’s knife to his buckle. Or, drip drop into the bottom of a pond. Rust would take him over, all over his beautiful gems. Crispy orange vision; it wasn't unlike being a piece of coral. Perhaps fished out again by another customer and set against the polisher until he was fit and ready again. Sold? Never sold! Only gazed upon, in a mixture of awe and disgust. Maybe the polisher didn’t polish his scent off, and maybe they missed a spot. It was unclear how many layers of skin they'd gone through by now, but every movement threatened the edge of the fastener to tear through plastic-skin. 

As years passed, Jaemin got creaky, crumply. But that didn’t mean he’d lost the allure of youth, although it just meant his reputation to pinch customers' hair just spread. His jewels had lost some weight by now, as forced to, in order for that glow to maintain itself. Lighter, lightheaded, fire, hot headed. Thrown into now a clacky wooden box and hid in a tacky wooden drawer. Cursed to eternally glow.

With every passing customer, Jaemin swore by his bare hands he’d find a master one day. Fate just has to work out, given infinite time! 

_What’s one bloodshed? They were going to do the same to me anyway._ A drop coated one of the links and shortly after, more drops coated the rest of him into a slippery, bloody mess. An upgrade actually: now he could mark whoever touched him! At this revelation, Jaemin gripped tighter, and tighter still, around the body. More blood, more marking material. That was the way to do things. 

They found Jaemin tangled and drunk on what little he had left to savour of a finger, to which he jangled a merry tune and twisted to lick one of the last chains. A chunk of tissue flopped on the floor as one of them felt him between his fingers, not unlike when he was in the shop. Well, there was no one to take him back to the shop now. Blood crackled onto their skin, finger bones fell by their feet and yet; Jaemin was worn once more. Note to self: need more next time on the jewels. Or at least, leave it for last. _What’s another bloodshed?_

Or another, or another. Soon they would all be marked; they would all be dead; they would all be dead _to me_. After all, he’d only driven a few to their own fate. Accelerated, may be a better word, but it was inevitable either way. In fact, Jaemin did them a favour! He’d been the catalyst for a god; he was simply doing what needed to be done eventually!

No matter how much his fastener was broken, it healed with a simple drop of life (fairly easy to obtain at this point, and at quite a cheap price if he cared to say). No matter how much they _adored me_ , there was always more love to be had. Some still dared to use him to admire themselves in the mirror with that smug smile and thumb turning over the central jewel. It was at these times when Jaemin sparkled the most, purposely. Proud and playing; what a fun game this was becoming. Especially when your opponents simply keel over at first sight and tear by the limbs. 

By this time, Jaemin was truely old. To live this long was already quite a miracle actually, considering the sheer amount of skin he’d shredded into smoke. The sharp ends of his fastener were growing blunt; _my face was becoming tarnished._ But still, he glowed just as before, just like the curse said he would, just like he had in the shop, just like he had _helped_ all those people and this was _my fate_. Such a useless, pitiful fate. Whatever was above a god, he would kill them one day. Because like Jaemin said: what’s another bloodshed? Chain to nature- mind- stone to life. 

_Sometimes, I think of myself as a necklace._

_I heal egos,_

_I earn people livings,_

_I gleam like they tell me to and like they want me to and how I like to and_

_Why?_

_I help these people all I want and help myself to the worst and stain myself at their cost and make my jewels stronger,_

_Somehow._

_I can never get worse._

_I can never die, truly._

_What a useless, pitiful fate._

_Makes me want to be back inside a velvet box._

_No; who can see me there?_

_What use am I in there? I’m useful now._

_Do you dare to tell me I’m not?_

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> If you've listened/know the lyrics to Cabinet Man, you'll probably definitely see the obvious similarities lmao. This fandom doesn't have enough WACKY stuff so I thought I'd add to the smol lot that there is. And I hope that this is considered WACKY. 
> 
> Btw the ending isn't a poem- I just wanted to format it like that lmao. It looks kinda cool and fits the mood idk. 
> 
> Thanks for reading! Kudos and comments are appreciate though I'm aware that this isn't typically the stuff that get those.
> 
> And if you like these surreal weird creepy things, I'd recommend:  
> 1\. Watching the short movie [Opal by Jack Stauber](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-1pVLJl_snc)  
> 2\. Reading the novel Perfume by Patrick Suskind (also partly inspired by it)


End file.
